


What If I Stay?

by melody1987



Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Smut, fluff glorious fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987
Summary: John considers a future with Des.





	What If I Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> So, this probably isn’t my best work but it’s fluffy and who doesn’t love a bit of fluff? It’s kind of a sequel to [A Friendly Face](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168810) but you don’t have to read that to understand what’s going on here :)

_ What if I stay? _

The question first cropped up in John’s mind during his second stay with Des.

(Well, actually it’s roots stretch further back to their very first night together, but John isn’t ready to admit he fell  _ that _ fast). 

That was over three months ago and he’s still no closer to finding an answer. In part because it requires a level of omniscience John would rather not possess, but mainly because he simply hasn’t tried. It’d involve dwelling on aspects of himself he’d rather avoid, digging up memories that are better off buried. He doesn’t  _ need _ the answer, he keeps telling himself, it’s more than enough that the question’s been asked. Let it linger on the periphery, where it can’t do any real damage but is still enough for his chest to feel a little too small for his heart whenever Des is around. 

A feeling John is happy to live with, even if it does sometimes make his hands feel a bit clammy. So much so that he’s now on all fours in the kitchen (if it can even be called that) of Des’s small apartment, digging his pen knife into the skirting board and chanting like his life depends on it. Which it does, of course, and by association, Des’s will too.

(John isn’t expecting any “visitors” - beyond the usual lot, who are a pain in the ass but generally benign - but only a fool would think that means they aren’t coming. And he knows what’ll happen if any of the big bads downstairs get even a whiff of Des. This place needs to be safe, which it will be by the time John’s finished. To the point where hopefully even the triumvirate wouldn’t dare enter without knocking.)

John hasn’t mentioned the magical upgrade in home security to Des - wouldn’t do to worry him, would it? - and he’d hoped to get it finished with Des being none the wiser. But, as always, the universe has other plans and Des arrives home from work a couple of hours earlier than expected to catch John in the act.

“What’re you doing?”

Des doesn’t sound annoyed, just curious. He’s known John a matter of months but has already seen him in positions stranger than this. Par for the course when dating someone like John.

Snapping his pen knife shut, John lifts himself up onto his knees and offers Des a smile. There’s no point hiding it, Des can see the knife and the marks in the wood and is smart enough to put two and two together. 

He looks from John to the skirting board and back again. “This a magic thing?”

“Yep.”

Des nods with the air of someone who knows his evening will be much easier if the questions end here and turns towards the bedroom. Which is when John spots the fucking great cut on his cheek and the spots of blood on his t-shirt.

“Oi, what happened to you?” John climbs to his feet, pocketing the knife as he comes to Des’s side, taking Des’s chin in hand and angling his face to get a better look.

Des doesn’t fight it and the way he leans into the touch makes John’s chest feel even tighter than usual. 

“Bar fight,” Des explains. “But don’t worry, this blood isn’t mine.”

That doesn’t make John feel any better because it means that at one point there was blood that  _ did _ belong to Des. A lot of it if the cut’s anything to go by. It looks like the sort of mark that can come from the broken end of a bottle and John would love a name. Maybe pay them a little visit. But he knows Des won’t give him one. 

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” The question’s a bit hypocritical coming from John considering he arrived here a couple of weeks ago with his chest torn to shreds. But Des wasn’t attacked by hellspawn, so he doesn’t have John’s excuse. 

“It looks worse than it is,” Des insists, but as John’s thumb ghosts along the edge of the cut, he has to bite back a hiss. But John doesn’t push. Luckily for Des, he’s got something that’ll fix that cut in no time.

“Come on,” John takes Des by the hand to lead him the rest of the way to the bedroom. 

John points at the bed and Des sits on the end, shrugging off his jacket while John opens his bag and rummages through it. Des watches, patient but curious as John mutters to himself until, finally, he finds what he’s looking for and pulls it out with a triumphant, “There’s the bugger!”

He opens it as he returns to Des, who’s already got a whiff of the contents and looks ready to bolt.

“Yeah, I know, it stinks,” John agrees. “But it works, trust me.”

“What the hell is it?” Des asks, eyeing the jar warily.

“Something that’ll have your pretty face back to normal in no time.”

Des looks as though he’d rather live with the wound and John can’t blame him. If he knew what was actually in this stuff he’d probably walk back out of the apartment.

“The smell’ll go once it’s sunk in,” John assures him but Des doesn’t seem convinced. “But if you really don’t want it…”

The battle is written all over Des’s face, because the smell is bad but so is the pain. Smell or pain, smell or pain. With a sigh and a slight bracing of the shoulders, smell wins.

“Alright,” Des says, still watching the jar with apprehension. “As long as the smell  _ does  _ go away.”

“It will, scouts honour.” Having never been a Boy Scout, John’s pretty sure he gets the salute wrong. But who cares when Des is smiling at him like that?

“Now, keep still for me, love,” John says, dipping his fore and middle finger into the gloop.

He rests the jar on the bed and gently angles Des’s face before covering the cut with goo. Des’s hands come up to rest on John’s hips and John reflexively leans in, the hand holding Des’s chin sliding around to the back of his neck. He likes touching Des, always has, whether it’s running fingers through his hair or letting his hands wander all over Des’s body, so when he’s done fixing the cut, he doesn’t move away to wash his hand. He stays right where he is, wiping his fingers on his trousers before looping his arm around Des’s neck.

“This stuff feels kinda good,” Des says, sounding surprised.

“Told you,” John replies and leans down to bring their mouths together.

The kiss is tender, slow and over too soon. John’s ready for more but Des seems to have suddenly noticed something and tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“Stealing my clothes again, Johnny?”

John shrugs. “Nearest thing to hand. And it’s comfy.”

Des smiles again and it’s clear he doesn’t mind. Very much the opposite. The heat in his gaze makes knots in John’s stomach and John leans in for that second kiss, still slow but deeper this time as Des’s hands slide under John’s shirt and run along the small of his back. John likes touching Des but he likes Des touching him even more, those large, warm hands able to chase off the chill that always feels as if it’s clinging to John’s bones. Des, a beam of bright, warm sunlight in the winter that is usually John’s life.

Des’s hands slide out from under the shirt and move up the front, opening the buttons slowly from top to bottom. He pushes the shirt open and breaks away from the kiss and John’s ready to complain until he feels Des’s hands run down his chest as lips circle his navel with kisses.

John closes his eyes and lets himself feel, fingers moving through Des’s hair, the press of Des’s palms against his back a cue for John to lean in even closer. He sighs when he feels Des’s tongue run across his skin and as Des’s mouth moves lower, the sigh becomes a soft moan. 

The graze of teeth along John’s hip bone sends a currents electricity through him, followed by a kick of excitement when Des unbuckles his belt. The zip is next and heat starts to pool low in John’s belly as his trousers are pulled down to rest on his thighs. Des’s mouth continues, teasing along the waistband of John’s briefs, trailing further and further down until his mouth closes over John’s growing erection. John pushes his hips forward without thought, fingers curling and gripping Des’s hair tight as the heat of Des’s tongue seeps through the fabric. John tips his head back and lets out a long and breathy moan. 

As Des’s mouth keeps doing all those wonderful things, his hands are moving, too, running slowly down the backs of John’s legs before coming up to hook into the waistband of John’s briefs and pull them with the trousers down to John’s ankles. 

Des’s kisses move to John’s thigh as John steps out of the clothes, leaving him in nothing but the shirt. Then Des looks up at him, those warm brown eyes holding John helplessly in place as he watches Des pull his t shirt over his head and push his own trousers down to the floor. 

He is without a doubt one of the most beautiful people John has ever seen. And, not for the first time, John wonders what price he’ll have to pay to keep him.

“Johnny?”

Des’s voice cuts through the dark thoughts as he motions for John to sit on his lap. John doesn’t hesitate, the press of their bodies electric as they kiss and there’s nothing slow about it anymore, mouths moving with desperation and need. But there’s still tenderness, from the glide of hands across skin to the rhythm of their hips, to the way each slowly unravels in the other’s arms.

John sees stars when he comes and, as he holds him, feels the tremors of orgasm run through Des’s body. They stay that way for a long time after, holding, breathing, their hearts slowing into a matching rhythm. At some point they end up lying on the bed, although John isn’t sure when it happened or how and doesn’t really care. Des is still kissing and touching him and John doesn’t know what to do with everything he feels, wishes he had the words to tell Des how amazing and wonderful and important he is.  _ I love you _ doesn’t feel enough but it’s all he has for the moment, so he breathes the words against Des’s lips for the very first time, holding back just long enough to hear Des whisper them in return before kissing him all over again.

-

Much later, they’re back in the kitchen, both showered, and John is finishing off the last protection spell as Des cooks supper. The smell wafts through the apartment and John’s stomach rumbles every time he inhales.

For the past two weeks he’s been treated to three square home cooked meals a day and while it’s still novel, he can feel himself softening, settling into the routine. It’ll be a shock if he ever has to go back to the life of cheap takeaways and liquid lunches.

_ If. _

The thought is small and sudden and catches John off guard, even though it shouldn’t. He wouldn’t be going to all the trouble of making the place demon proof if he had no intention of staying. 

He’s never really acknowledged it, though, certainly never said the words out loud. Just like  _ the question _ , it’s been pushed to the edges, presence vaguely noted but never explored. 

Fear is a big part of it, of what could go wrong, of all the ways Des could end up getting hurt. And the biggest fear of all is that it won’t be the demons that hurt him but John himself. He’s got plenty of experience where that’s concerned, could unroll an entire parchment full of names of the people whose lives he’s managed to fuck up just by being him. And it’d be the cruelest thing in the world to add Des to that list. Dear, wonderful Des, who makes John feel in a way he never has before, who has his back to John right now and is cooking away, blissfully unaware that, just by breathing, he makes the world a better place.

If John was stronger, or less selfish, maybe, their first night together probably would’ve been their last. Probably. Or maybe if Des wasn’t quite so easy to fall in love with. But things are as they are and John can’t change it. And for all John’s cynicism and no matter how many times the universe reminds him that happy endings are not for him, it's not enough to stop him chasing this one.

Lost in his thoughts, it takes John a while to realise he’s being watched. Des is facing him now, a look of mild concern on his face.

“You okay, Johnny?”

John smiles.

_ What if I stay?  _

Well, there’s only one way to find out.

“You need a bigger kitchen, love.”

Des snorts softly. “If you’ve got something in that bag of tricks, feel free to use it.”

John climbs to his feet and joins Des by the stove.

“Actually,” John says, leaning against the countertop. “I was thinking of a more practical solution.”

There’s a pause, during which the stirring spoon in Des’s hand briefly goes still. “Go on,” he says, voice deliberately calm.

John reaches for the paper, still open on the property page he’d skimmed through earlier, eyes searching for the ads that’d shown the most promise. He suddenly feels awkward, which is stupid because all he’s doing is suggest they move in together. Hardly a marriage proposal.

“It’s just an idea. You don’t have to if you’re not interested…”

John’s kind of hoping that he won’t have to actually ask, that Des will get the gist from the paper alone.

Apparently not.

Des lifts his eyes to meet John’s. “Won’t know until you ask me.”

John presses his lips into a thin line. Fine. 

“Wanna move in together?”

There. He’s asked. Now all Des has to do is say yes.

There’s another pause and, this time, Des lets go of the spoon completely. He turns to face John fully and his expression is hard to read. “You’re sure?” 

Des knows, through moments of surprising honesty from John himself, what kind of person John is. Knows the things he’s done, mistakes he’s made, the people he’s hurt making them. Knows what a wretched excuse for a human being John can often be. And yet he stays. For whatever reason Des sees something worthwhile in him. John tries not to think of all the ways he’ll inevitably let Des down.

Straightening up, John wills him to see the truth in his eyes. “I am.”

He wants this, more than he’s wanted anything for quite some time.

Des watches for a moment, face still unreadable, and then steps closer, not quite pinning John to the countertop but close enough. He takes John’s face in his hands with the sort of smile that makes John’s legs turn to jelly. 

“Then let’s do it,” Des says before pulling John into a kiss. 

John  _ thinks  _ he’s still talking about living together but Des’s hands are sliding under his shirt again so he could be wrong. Either way, John’s not complaining. 

But Des pulls away too soon and John chases his lips for more kisses. Eventually Des has to hold his face just to keep their mouths apart.

“I’ve got one condition.”

John nods but isn’t really paying attention. He’s watching Des’s lips, impatient to kiss them again.

“No smoking indoors.”

That grabs John’s attention. No smoking in his own home? His expression makes Des laugh.

“Come on, Johnny. You can’t tell me you actually like the smell.”

John doesn’t really think about it. The smell isn't important, he just wants the nicotine.

“We’ll get a place with a balcony, then,” John says, face leaning in. “Or a garden if we can afford it. That make you happy?” 

Des gives John another dazzling smile. “Very,” he says before finally giving John another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Only a month to go until Legends returns, isn’t it? I’m not ready and don’t think I ever will be cos you know old Johnny boy’s gonna suffer. 
> 
> Oh and don’t ask me what the magic gloop actually is. It’s a plot device, nothing more.


End file.
